


Sometimes Human

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Drunklock, First Kiss, John brushes his teeth, M/M, Sleepy John, Sleepy Sherlock, and I couldn't resist, because I've seen those WTF gifs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a drunken night out (the Stag Do but... not. Because I prefer sometimes to forget why they did the bar crawl!) the boys end up accidentally bumping lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Human

 

John sat forward, onto the very edge of the cushion and before he knew it he was slipping. He steadied himself with a hand on his friend’s knee and a sudden wave of soberness crept over him as he realised what he was doing and just how close his other hand was to Sherlock’s groin. “I don’ mind,” he slurred and looked up into Sherlock’s face. Sherlock hadn’t even flinched, he slouched there, glass tilted, smirking as John inched back and righted himself. He felt the side of Sherlock’s shoe press against his own foot. They were too close.

“Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?” Oh God, Sherlock was so close as he leaned in to study whatever he had written on John’s forehead. John spoke words while he tried to stop what was happening in his head. He should not be having these thoughts, not now, not ever. Not any more, it wasn’t...

But the honeyed tones of his best friend so intimately close, as he told John he had no idea who he had written down, made John recoil in misplaced frustration. Sherlock couldn’t even play this damn game properly. He was an idiot. A beautiful, ridiculous, oblivious idiot.

John got up unsteadily from his chair, turned to the mantel and leaned one forearm on it for a moment. “Another drink?” he offered, watching his friend reflected in the mirror, slumped back in his own chair.

Sherlock looked at his glass and frowned, shaking his head. “No, I think... I’d like to lie somewhere dark for a while.” He reached over and put the glass down, rubbed at his face with one hand and dislodged the paper which fluttered to the ground.

He bent to pick it up as John turned around and Sherlock peered closer to read John’s writing and his eyes widened. “Sherlock Holmes?” he said slowly, clearly offended. “Me? _Sometimes_ human?”

“Uh, well, you know _you_ asked those questions,” John told him and he thought that actually they’d better do this when they’d had some sleep, when they were sober. “It was only a game.”

“Hmmm,” Sherlock said, scrunching up the paper and putting it into his pocket. He swayed a little as he stared at John and John considered reaching for his arm to steady him.

“Bed?” he asked instead.

“Yes.” Sherlock took a couple of steps and John was now seriously worried that he would stumble and hurried over to him as he bumped off John’s chair.

“Here, let’s get there in one piece, ok?” He put one hand under his elbow and Sherlock looked down at his hand and then into his face and John felt a flush coming on. He looked away quickly and his head was spinning only a little as they went along the hallway to Sherlock’s bedroom. John pushed the door open with his toe. “Ok, here we go.” He put his other hand on Sherlock’s waist and turned him so he could sit down on the bed but somehow there was tangling and before John could detach himself he was tumbling onto the mattress with Sherlock underneath him.

“John,” Sherlock’s muffled voice came from below him. “This is actually quite comfortable.”

John huffed out a laugh but he knew if there was less alcohol running through his system he would be far from amused about this new situation. He pushed up onto his elbows. “Sherlock, I’m sorry,” he said trying to roll.

He felt hands on his ribs and Sherlock eased him upwards and John ended up on his back beside his friend.

“Thank you,” he said, turning his head and grinning at Sherlock.

Sherlock watched him for a moment and then those pale eyes turned to stare up at the ceiling. “You slipped me a shot, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly.

“Mmmm?” John said as nonchalantly as possible. Of course he would have noticed the vodka, it was Sherlock. He hadn’t mentioned it at the time though.

“I also know that you had one too, so we were still even at that point.”

“I meant to have that one myself, sorry, must’ve switched em,” John said apologetically.

“Ahh, doesn’t matter,” Sherlock told him, arms stretching up over his head as he laid himself out more comfortably. “Was my idea to get you ‘liquored up’, John, I can hardly complain.” His words were still a little slurred which John just found wholly endearing.

John stared at his friend, completely at ease beside him here. “You never told me how comfy your mattress is,” he accused, tapping Sherlock’s thigh with the back of his hand.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t want you swapping with yours while I’m out.”

He was smiling when their eyes met again and John wanted more than anything, through the slight haze of the alcohol and the oncoming sleepiness to say something meaningful, to thank his friend for just being him, for arranging this shambolic evening, which, as it turned out was one of the best nights John had ever had. Any evening that ended with him being this close to his friend, it was all good.

Instead of saying anything he hummed a little and closed his eyes, resting his head back on the comfy pillow.

***

“Ten line judges? Ten balls?”

“It’s just called tennis, there’s not ten of anything.”

“Well whatever, ‘s a silly game.”

“It’s a British instit-titu... something,” John mumbled, feeling sleep creeping closer, warm and happy lying on his back with his arms folded over his chest. Sherlock’s bed really was comfy. “Lovely.”

“Pardon?”

“Hmm?”

“You said something.”

“Nope,” John drew out. He yawned and closed his eyes.

After a while John realised that he was listening to the soft intake and exhale of Sherlock’s breathing and he rolled his head on the pillow. He shouldn’t have; a sleeping Sherlock was a beautiful thing and now John just wanted to cuddle. He closed his eyes and rolled over, his back to Sherlock. He should get up, go up to his own bed, but he was so tired and so comfortable and Sherlock’s breathing was like a whispered lullaby.

***

Early. Too early. His head was pounding and what was that piercing light trying to penetrate his actual eyelids? John rolled away from the brightness, searching for his duvet with one hand but finding just air because he was on top of the covers. Must have fallen onto the bed and gone straight off to sleep. _Ouch_.

He squirmed some more, burrowing his face into the pillow a little, aiming for darkness, and then he felt soft skin against his cheek and lips and opened his eyes. Sherlock’s face was right there, eyes open, staring straight into John’s, looking as surprised as John certainly was. There was an inch of space between them and neither of them moved.

“John?” Sherlock finally mumbled, nose brushing against John’s as he spoke. John nodded. “Why is it so bright?”

“Uh,” John said, blinking heavily.

“Did you just kiss me?” Sherlock asked.

“Uh, what? No, no I –” John scooted back to leave a much more sensible gap between them but it made his head throb even more and he put his hands over his eyes.

“You woke me up.”

“Sorry,” John said, absolutely not wanting to take his hands from his face. He risked a peak through his fingers and Sherlock was still staring at him.

“John, I think –” Sherlock began but John didn’t want to hear anything about fruitless attempts at seduction or how much Sherlock didn’t need a relationship and wasn’t interested in John in that way.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep,” he interrupted and despite the pain he sat up, groaned at the light again and the rushing of blood in his ears, and dragged the curtains across the window with his eyes half closed so at least Sherlock would have some comfort.

“John,” Sherlock said again but John was already at the door.

“Thanks for a... a great night,” he said with a sigh, taking one more look back to his friend.

Sherlock was sitting up now, watching John with scrunched up eyes, a hand held to his head. “John, you don’t have to go, I’m cold,” Sherlock told him.

John frowned and went over to the wardrobe, pulling out a thick blanket which he threw onto the bed. “There, think you’ll be ok now?”

“Not really John, if you’d wait a moment,” he shuffled off the bed until his feet touched the floor. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

John just felt irritated though; hung over, sore head, bad taste in his mouth. He suddenly felt more lonely and alone than ever, just at the thought of what Sherlock must be about to say.

“Can it wait? I really need to brush my teeth.” Thankfully Sherlock didn’t do anything stupid like leaping in front of him as John made for the door again.

He went into the bathroom and used the toilet and was washing his hands when the door opened. Sherlock was shaking his head, maybe trying to clear the fuzz like John was as he picked up his toothbrush and got too much paste on it before shoving it into his mouth. Maybe Sherlock would give up if John couldn’t respond because his mouth was full.

He stood there brushing, one hand on his hip while Sherlock groaned and turned to the toilet. John looked away and kept brushing until his mouth tasted less like last night’s alcohol and more like mint.

Sherlock nudged him out of the way of the basin and started to speak again while he washed his hands. “So, you didn’t mean to kiss me then.”

John spat out some toothpaste and managed an indignant, “No!”

“Are you sure, John? Because the way you’re reacting suggests that you did mean to kiss me and now you’re embarrassed because I woke up.”

“You think I’d want you to be asleep when I kissed you?” John asked and then shoved the brush back in - Shut up, John, _shut up_.

“I have no idea. I’ve never been in the situation where you or anyone else for that matter wanted to kiss me, either awake or asleep.”

John sighed and held his brush out, pointing it at his friend. “For your information that would not be acceptable behaviour. I did not mean to kiss you, Sherlock. I woke up and we’d rolled into each other. That’s the end of it.”

Sherlock brushed his teeth much more quickly as John finished up, waiting for Sherlock to make room so he could rinse.

Sherlock handed him a towel and stared at him while they both dried up. When John thought they’d just leave this little scene in silence Sherlock finally said, “I enjoyed it.”

John blinked and took a little step backwards. “Mmm?” he managed.

Sherlock stepped into his personal space and John had to look up at him, heart suddenly racing. “It was nice, waking up with you that close.”

John cleared his throat and couldn’t think of a thing to say. _Shit_.

“So, if it turns out that it wasn’t a mistake and maybe you liked it too, well I was wondering, if you’d do it again?”

“Oh God,” John breathed out slowly.

Sherlock stared down at him, hair curling around his ears, clothes dishevelled from where they had tumbled into bed last night. He looked as good as ever and John swallowed hard.

“Yes?” he said a little croakily. “Yes.”

Sherlock leaned in before John could say anymore and their lips touched, gently, still damp from their teeth cleaning, the smell of mint pleasant between them. John felt Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder, sliding up his neck to his cheek and John kissed him back, pressing forward, lifting up on his toes. They pulled back for a second and in the pause John shoved Sherlock back against the sink and followed, hands going into his hair as he kissed him again. Lips eased apart this time and John pressed his tongue in a little way, meeting Sherlock’s and he nearly came in his pants.

Sherlock’s eyes were open when they parted again and John thought that might be the sexiest thing about all this, that he was right there in the moment with John, not imagining anything different in his mind. They were kissing and it was as real as it was going to get. Sherlock came back for more with his hands on John’s biceps, which was lucky because John was finding it hard to keep his feet as Sherlock’s lips pressed back onto his.

The headache was instantly forgotten as he considered what exactly they were doing. Maybe they were still both drunk he thought suddenly, and pulled away to get his breath back. “Have you thought about this before?” he said.

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, often. Have you?”

John felt his face heating and he let out a chuckle. “Oh God, yes.”

“Come back here then,” Sherlock said and John didn’t hesitate. Best hangover cure he’d ever heard of.


End file.
